


Picked Them Up And Stepped Right In

by yeswayappianway



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Heist, M/M, Multi, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-01
Updated: 2018-01-01
Packaged: 2019-02-19 19:01:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13130037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeswayappianway/pseuds/yeswayappianway
Summary: Claude says, “I think the call fucked up, because I swear I heard you say ‘steal the Orion Garnets.’ “Marc answers cheerfully, “Yep.”“Jesus.” Claude whistles softly. “No wonder Crosby agreed to bring me in, this is huge.”





	Picked Them Up And Stepped Right In

**Author's Note:**

  * For [remiges](https://archiveofourown.org/users/remiges/gifts).



> I hope you enjoy!
> 
> Huge thank you to Jarka for talking about this with me and also beta-ing it for me.
> 
> title from From Now On, by Delta Spirit

If you asked Marc, one great part about being a criminal instead of having a real job was that no one expected you to have a career progression. There’s no equivalent to working at an entry level job for a few years, getting promoted, and eventually working your way up ladder. He could decide to take a shitty, small job in between stealing valuable museum pieces and no one would judge him. Unfortunately, he’s starting to think Sid doesn’t see it the same way.

They’d finished their last job over a week ago and have mostly just been hanging around Pittsburgh doing some clean-up work, checking on alibis and safe houses and talking to contacts. Marc looked forward to times like this, enjoying the chance to relax and see some of the other guys they didn’t work with often. This time, though, Sid had been alternately disappearing for whole days and following him around while pretending he was actually busy. So it was pretty obvious he was worrying about something. After it had gone on for a whole week, Marc visits Kris and Cath on pretenses of checking on the latest statue he’d given them to fence and explains what was going on.

Kris frowns. “Sid, moping? I didn’t think he did that.” Cath, though, narrows her eyes, and taps out something on her phone.

“Think he’s seen this?” This, Marc sees when he looks at the screen, was an article titled “Is The Kid Done For Good?” Skimming it, a heaviness sinks into Marc’s chest. It took a while introducing several of Sid’s greatest hits and why experts thought they were all done by the same person, but then it explained that nothing in the last year had any of the hallmarks of “the Kid” and maybe “the so-called world’s best jewel thief is finally out of the game.” 

Cath adds, after he’d had time to read through the article, “I’ve definitely gotten some questions from some of my buyers about him as well.” Marc takes a little pleasure in imagining how she might have dealt with those questions.

It fits uncomfortably well. Sid was never one to pay attention to his own reputation, but that didn’t mean he didn’t love pulling off jobs that attracted fame. He was content to do small time work when it was there and someone asked him to, but Sid was happiest masterminding a complicated heist for a notable haul. Lately, though, they hadn’t had many jobs like that. Marc didn’t always work with Sid, but they worked together enough that he knew Sid had been trying to work with different people, or do quieter operations. 

Marc sighs. “I don’t know if he’s seen this article, but I’m sure he’s heard this shit.”

Kris seems to perk up when he reads the article over Marc’s shoulder. “Well, then, that’s easy enough to fix.” He doesn’t seem daunted at all when Marc and Cath give him the same incredulous look. “Just find a big job for him to do.”

Marc rolls his eyes. “Oh, yes, of course, I’ll just find some more priceless jewels, those are easy. They’re big jobs for a _reason_.”

“Sure, but you’ve got the perfect opportunity. Hasn’t Sid always wanted to try for the Orion Garnets?” Kris leans back against the couch, looking perfectly self-satisfied.

“Yeah, but it’s not like we haven’t looked into it,” Marc feels that was possibly an understatement, given that there was a running bet against how long Sid could go between mentioning the Orions in unrelated jobs. “We can’t just fucking waltz into Washington and steal them, because we’d never get set up before Ovechkin’s crew would get us arrested, or worse, try to recruit Sid again.”

This time, Cath is the one who speaks up, sounding interested. “No, Kris has a point, we know Ovechkin’s going to be out of town for a while, because he and Geno are planning some sort of grand Russian tour this summer. It’d be a perfect time to snag the Orions. It’d still be a pain in the ass, but you wouldn’t have to worry about them as much.”

He’s already thinking of what kind of prep work they’ll have to do, but Marc says, “Is it really worth it? Just to cheer up Sid?”

Kris raises an eyebrow and Cath looks amused. Leaning his head on his hand, Kris says, “Oh, gee, I don’t know, is the happiness of your favorite person worth doing something that you’re both very good at and you literally make a living off of? What a dilemma.” 

Cath laughs as Marc glares.

“First of all, fuck you. Second of all…” Marc trails off. “Yeah, okay, fine, of course I’ll do it. So, who should I talk to first?”

\-----

The next day, Marc lets himself into Sid’s house and walks into the study. Sid is at his desk, frowning at a spreadsheet on the computer. Marc plops a folder down on the keyboard and Sid looks up at him, eyes distant. Marc ignores his expression and says, “So, here’s everything we know about the Orion Garnets.”

Sid doesn’t respond at first, just picks up the folder, opens it, stares at the first page, closes it, looks back at Marc, back at the folder again, sets it down on the desk, and asks, “Why?”

“Because we’ve talked about getting them for ages, because we don’t have any big jobs lined up right now, because you need something to do.” Marc shrugs. “Any of those, all of them, whatever.”

Shaking his head, Sid doesn’t look at him when he responds. “Come on, Flower, you know we can’t pull it off. That’s a bigger job than we have time for, and…” he trails off.

“No, that’s bullshit, Sid. Weren’t you listening to me? We don’t have any big jobs lined up, and you’re not doing anything without me because if you were, you wouldn’t be moping around. Besides, when was the last time we actually did a big flashy job?”

“It’s been a long time, because I don’t _like_ big flashy jobs,” Sid says, glaring directly at him.

Marc crosses his arms. “No, but you like the kind of challenges that come with big flashy jobs, and I think that’s the problem here. You need a good challenge, not just something you can do in your sleep. Come on! Prove you can do this.”

“It’s not like I’ve lost my self-confidence, or whatever you’re trying to say,” Sid’s crossed his arms right back and he’s sitting up straighter.

“Right, because we both know you actually are that good. So do something with that! It’s not like you need the money, do it just because you want to. Sid, this is the big score, we’ve talked about it since we were basically kids, and we have a chance here to actually pull it off. No one’s stolen the Orions for twenty years, think how much more interesting it will be.”

Sid sighs, and looks up at the ceiling. “Look, even if we tried, how are we gonna pull it off? How are we going to work in DC without Alex knowing what we’re doing? And who’s even available to help?”

Finally. Marc grabs the folder back and leafs through the first few pages, although it’s mostly just for show. He’s been staring at all the info in it for two days now. “Ovi’s going to be out of town for a month, remember, he and Geno are running off to Russia for at least a month, and most of his crew is working with other people while he’s gone. So, I mean, it’s not wide open, but we shouldn’t have to deal with them at least. And as for how we’re going to pull it off, that’s your job to figure out, Captain.” 

Sid rolls his eyes at the nickname, as if wasn’t well earned. He should be happy everyone’s settled on Captain, which is at least kind of respectful, instead of some variation on mom or teacher. He’s fucking bossy enough for both.

“Let me see that folder again,” he demands. Marc hands it over, and drops into one of the other chairs. Most of the work is done. There’s just one last hurdle he needs to get over, but Sid hasn’t quite gotten to it yet.

“We need more than just the two of us to pull it off,” Sid announces. There it is. Marc doesn’t want to say anything yet, so he lets Sid explain it to himself. “Most of our regulars aren’t around right now, and it needs to be people we can trust, especially since we’re not getting hired for the job, it can’t be anyone we’d need to pay in advance. I mean, I think the exact number might change based on how we want to approach it, but just for lifting the Garnets, I don’t see how we can do it without two people going in. Too bad we can’t just have two of you,” Sid says, joking but also a little wistful. Marc doesn’t want to think about how dangerous Sid with access to cloning technology would be. He’s very glad it doesn’t exist yet. Unfortunately, Marc has already realized this problem.

“I, uh… I do have an idea, but you have to promise not to kneecap me,” Marc’s genuinely nervous to suggest this, and he’s sure it shows on his face, because Sid gets a worried frown.

“Of course I’m not gonna _kneecap_ you, Flower, what the fuck? Just tell me your idea, I’m sure it’s fine.”

Marc takes a deep breath. “We could ask Giroux.”

There’s a full minute of silence where Marc avoids looking at Sid and wishes he had come up with any other idea. The thing is, it _is_ a good plan, and he knows it. Claude works pretty similarly to Marc himself, which has caused all kinds of problems when they’ve ended up on opposite sides of a job, but would make planning this job even easier. And Marc knows he’s not busy, because they’d been texting yesterday and Claude mentioned having to actually clean his apartment since he would be there for longer than a week at a time.

“Why the fuck would I want to work with Giroux?” Sid spits the name out as if it’s personally painful to him.

“Because he’s good, because we know how he works and what he can do, and because if he was anyone else, you’d think bringing him in was a great strategy, but you have an irrational hatred of the guy, so you get emotional about it.” Marc’s not at all as sure as he sounds, but he’s pretty sure Sid will pick apart any argument that isn’t delivered with complete conviction.

Sid stands up. His hands are balled into fists. “If you think we need him to pull this off, why did you even ask me? Maybe you’d be better off just talking to him,” and he storms out of the room. Marc slides down in the chair and groans.

\-----

The longer Sid doesn’t come back, the more Marc is convinced that maybe this was a bad idea. He’s looking for exhibition spaces that might be having shows during the summer, because he might as well do some work while he waits, when Sid trudges back in, looking annoyed and also soaking wet.

“Okay, if you think Giroux will work, I’ll go along with it,” he says, clearly grumpy about having come to this conclusion. Marc knows he should acknowledge that Sid is making a concession here, but fuck it. He fist pumps. Sid glares, and continues, “I don’t want to at all, but I trust you, so if you say it’s the best way of getting the Orions, I believe you.”

Marc ignores the warmth spreading through his chest when Sid says “I trust you” in favor of asking, “Did you have to go for a dramatic walk in the rain like some movie character for that? Couldn’t you have figured it out somewhere dry?” Sid ignores him, and stalks past him to the stairs, presumably to go change clothes.

The warm feeling dies down a little when Marc remembers that he still needs to convince Claude.

\-----

“Are you _fucking_ kidding me?” Claude yells. Marc holds the phone at arm’s length and glances around the backyard to see if anyone heard that, despite knowing that no one lives within earshot. He puts it back to his ear gingerly. 

“Are you done now? Yes, I’m serious, I want you to come work with Sid and I on a big job.”

Claude snorts. “I notice you didn’t say _he_ wants me to work with you.”

Sighing, Marc says, “No, he doesn’t particularly, but I said you were the best person for the job and Sid agreed.”

There’s a brief pause. Claude sounds hesitant when he responds. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but why do you need me? There’s nothing I can do that you can’t.”

Marc looks around again and ducks back toward the house just in case. “Turns out, you need more than two people to steal the Orion Garnets.”

There’s another, longer pause. Marc looks at his phone and realizes the call is dead. Did Claude hang up on him? He’s trying to decide if it’s worth calling him back when the screen lights up. It’s Claude.

He says, “I think the call fucked up, because I swear I heard you say ‘steal the Orion Garnets.’ “

Marc answers cheerfully, “Yep.”

“Jesus.” Claude whistles softly. “No wonder Crosby agreed to bring me in, this is huge.”

“I mean, technically, they’re not anywhere near the hardest jewels to steal. Private collector, relatively small, they don’t even belong to a royal family or anything,” Marc says, grinning. Claude’s going to agree, even if he hasn’t said it yet, and Marc is starting to get the feeling of excitement that comes with the beginning of a job.

Claude laughs. “Sure, but none of them are famous for being stolen by some of the best thieves in history. What brought this on, anyway?”

“Oh, you know,” Marc says jokingly, “I’ve heard criminals don’t live as long as everyone else, so I thought it was time for a mid-life crisis.”

“Fuck, Flower, aren’t mid-life crisises supposed to be, like, fancy cars and affairs?”

“This seemed more fun. So, you’ll do it?”

Marc swears he can hear Claude rolling his eyes. “Yeah, I’ll do it. Maybe I’ll make him have to acknowledge I’m good at something, that might make his head explode.” Marc isn’t sure how to believably say that Sid already has, but Claude’s already adding, “Let me know when Crosby wants to have his damn pre-planning planning session, I’m not going anywhere until I know what exactly the play is.”

He sounds put out by this. Sid likes to claim that his pre-planning sessions are “just brainstorming”, but everyone who’s ever worked with him knows that they’re way more intense than that. Marc’s weirdly, embarrassingly fond of them.

“Will do. It’ll be good to see you again,” Marc adds, surprised at how heartfelt it comes out.

Claude sounds equally sincere when he says, “Yeah, it’ll be nice to work with you for once. Talk to you later, Flower,” and he hangs up again.

Marc slips his phone into his pocket and heads back inside.

Sid’s taken his spot and is looking over the notes he’d been making on exhibitions. Not looking up from the computer, he asks, “That was Giroux, right? Did he agree?” 

If Marc didn’t know better, he’d think Sid was asking casually, indifferently. He isn’t. Sid’s been staring at the same point on the page at least since Marc walked back in.

“Yeah, Claude’s in. He wants to do your planning session remotely though, says he doesn’t want to go anywhere till he knows the play.” He’s expecting some resistance from Sid, who’s been known to be paranoid about online communication.

Instead, Sid says, “Claude? Since when are you on a first name basis?” He’s abandoned his pretense of looking at the notes and is looking at Marc suspiciously.

Fuck. It’s not that Marc made a point to hide the fact that he talks to Claude, he just— never brought it up. Because of this, in fact. Still, he feels like he’s been caught doing something illicit.

“Since we ran into each other in Quebec City a few years ago and started texting each other.”

“You’ve been texting Giroux for a few years now. And you never mentioned it,” Sid’s voice is cold. He’s still, but his hand is gripping the papers so tightly Marc worries they’re going to rip. He’s about to apologize when anger rises up inside him. Why the fuck should he feel like he needs to apologize for texting someone?

“Yeah, Sid, I didn’t think I needed to tell you about everyone I texted. I’ve never given him any of our secrets, never told him where we were or what we were working on, which I know you would never accuse me of since you’re my friend and my partner and you trust me.” It’s Marc’s turn to glare. 

Sid’s not quite yelling now, but it’s getting there. “You didn’t tell me! Of course I don’t think you’ll sell us out, but you didn’t even think to tell me when it’s been going on for _years_? What have you even talked about? It’s not like you do anything else interesting, all of your best stories are with me.”

“Fuck you, Claude is my friend, and just because you’ve known me longer doesn’t mean you have some sort of monopoly on me, Sid.” Marc is nearly shaking with anger. Sid, who sometimes doesn’t even know when Marc has left the city, acting like he deserves to know every detail of his life is infuriating at the best of times. “You don’t get to keep me for yourself, or whatever you think you’re entitled to just because you’re you.” He spits out the last word.

“It’s not because I ‘feel entitled’, it’s because I want to!” Sid yells back. His face freezes after he says it and it looks like he’s going to say something. Marc doesn’t want to know what it’s going to be.

“I’m gonna ignore that, and go home, and tomorrow, we’re going to be fine and work together and talk to Claude about planning. Good night.” Before Marc leaves, he sees something in Sid’s expression twist, his eyes falling closed as he sighs. He doesn’t stay long enough to see if Sid says anything else.

 _It doesn’t matter what he said_ , Marc reminds himself over and over on the drive back to his place. _He doesn’t mean it the way you want_. Kris’s look when he said “your favorite person” keeps springing to mind though, and Marc abruptly realizes that maybe stealing the Orions isn’t going to be the worst part about this job for him.

He texts Kris when he gets home.

to: Tanger

why did i decide to do this

fuck feelings

from: Tanger

oh are we finally talking about you being in love with sid

He turns his phone off. Maybe if Marc just pretends this evening never happened, tomorrow won’t suck as much.

\-----

The next morning comes quicker than Marc would really like, but soon enough, he’s sitting next to Sid in the safe house’s main room. Their work laptop is sitting on the table in front of them and Sid’s looking at it resentfully. He hasn’t mentioned anything about last night and Marc is both relieved and a little disappointed. 

Marc glances back and forth between Sid and the computer a few times before sighing and opening the video chat app. It’s one of the ones that some big tech companies use for important meetings, and Marc can’t remember anymore if they’d tricked their way into a subscription as part of a job or just to have for themselves, but it’s very useful. Turns out major corporations are as paranoid about anyone listening in as someone trying to plan an illegal jewel heist.

The screen blinks at them for moment and Marc really hopes that Claude actually picks up. It freezes up and then Claude’s face appears on the screen, slightly pixely and also slightly asleep looking. He nods curtly at them.

Sid doesn’t even nod back, just grabs his notebook and a pen and says, “Alright, so this is what we know so far.”

It takes them about twenty minutes to go through the basics of the information they already have, with Claude asking questions and as they go along, Marc can see both Sid and Claude settling into what seems to be a work mode. They’re not anything approaching friendly, but they both keep the snide comments to a minimum. When they’ve finished summarizing, Marc says, “So. We have to figure out a way to get the Orions out of Dupont’s house, yes? It’s a million times easier if we’re dealing with another setting.”

Nodding, Sid says, “Yeah, that’s why we need to look into exhibitions of some kind. Preferably private ones, or at least not museums, because we’ll have a much better chance of making sure he shows them and there’ll be fewer other factors to deal with.”

Claude’s looking into the distance like he’s thinking. “Do we have someone we can bring in who can also show something at the exhibition? That way we’ve got an in for the venue ahead of time and also we’ll have a potential distraction during the actual job.”

“How about Kessel?” Marc suggests.

Sid frowns. “No, Phil won’t work, he’s not good enough with people and I think he’s busy anyway.”

“Ah, no, I was thinking of Amanda, but I’ll be sure to tell Phil you said that.” Marc’s not a hundred percent sure if they can contact her directly, but probably Phil can do that much for them.

Claude speaks up, his voice slightly delayed from the video. “Aren’t the Kessels actually big collectors?”

“Yeah, and a lot of it’s even legitimately owned,” Sid seems to be frowning about something as he talks. “So she can definitely get in, because she can actually show something of her own, which is great because that’s one less thing we need to worry about. Amanda can mostly run on her own once we bring her in. But… how are we going to make sure Dupont is there with the Orions?”

Marc shakes his head. “No, first we have to figure out where ‘there’ is. We still haven’t found a good exhibition, and we need that, I think, before we try to bring in Amanda.”

“Let me see the list again?” Claude asks, and he looks down at something below the computer. “Do we know when Ovechkin’s going to be out of DC exactly?”

“Not really, but we know when he’s leaving and that he’s going to be gone for at least a month.” Sid checks the file, and then adds, “June, basically. He’s leaving at the end of the first week of June.”

“Right, well then, we’ve pretty much got to do this one.” Claude points at something and then seems to remember that they can’t see his computer screen. “Uh, the third one on the list— Daniels. It’s the only one that’s definitely in that time and that isn’t in a huge public building.”

Sid immediately double checks the list, and then checks it again. Marc grimaces, because he’s pretty sure this is Sid wanting to find something wrong with Claude’s logic. He answers before Sid can object.

“Yeah, I think you’re right. So, what else do we need?”

Sid gives up on the list of exhibitions, and says, “We’ll need to figure out when we need to get into DC, how early we need to be there to find everything we need.”

“Do you have somewhere we can stage?” Claude asks. “Because I don’t work in DC much, and I’d rather not have this fall apart before it starts because we’re working out of a van, or whatever.”

A van. They’re going to need someone to help with transport. Marc scribbles it down on a piece of paper next to him, as Sid says, “Yeah, we know somewhere, as long as you’re okay with working out of a hotel room.”

Claude shrugs. “As long as we don’t get caught, I’m okay with a lot of things.”

The instinct to make a suggestive joke out of that is strong, but Marc resists. Instead, he speaks up with, “We’re going to need a transport person. Maybe someone who can help with any computer systems as well? Because Sid, you’re shit with computers, and neither of us are exactly hackers.”

Gritting his teeth, Sid says, “Thanks. But yes, we probably do need someone else.”

“How about Simmer— Wayne Simmonds? We work together a lot,” Marc sees the smirk on Claude’s face as he says that and, honestly, he gets where Sid’s coming from when he almost growls. Claude and Simmonds had beaten them to half a dozen scores in 2013 alone. Claude keeps going. “He’s reliable, and he’s good with tech.”

“Why the hell would I let you bring in Simmonds?” Sid’s voice is dripping with disdain.

When Claude responds, the smirk is still firmly in place. “Because you already agreed to bring me in, and you don’t have anyone better, or you’d have suggested them already. Besides, you know how good Simmer is— the only reason we got to the Balboa necklace before you is because he got us into the museum system.” Sid’s fists clench, but he takes a deep breath.

“Okay, Giroux, you can bring Simmonds along. We’ll need to be there at least two weeks out if we’re setting up five of us plus getting Dupont solidly into the exhibition with the Orions. We’ll also need to be really fucking careful, because if he backs out at the last minute suspecting something, we’re screwed.”

Hoping to try and keep the peace, Marc says, “We can probably get some uniforms to be security or the service setting up the exhibition room. Maybe Amanda can get Dupont in? Hint to the exhibition curator that he’s interested so they talk to him themselves.”

Sid narrows his eyes as he looks across the room at nothing in particular. “We’ll need to get there earlier then, I think. This is going to be tight, we’ll need to make sure the timing all works in our favor.” For all that he seems to be worrying, Sid’s more engaged than Marc’s seen him in a while, and it’s gratifying.

They figure out exactly when they need to make it to DC by, and where to meet without too much posturing. 

“We’re going to need a way to fix the security footage,” Marc says, looking over the notes again. “I don’t know what our options are, without actually getting in the building.”

Claude looks a little distant, but he says, “I might have someone, what exactly do we need?”

Sid’s lip curls. “I’m sure we can talk to Olli or Duper, we can handle it here.”

Straightening up, Claude stares back at him through the computer screen, and Marc really hopes they haven’t made it this far into the planning session just to get into a fight now. Claude says, “Sure, but they aren’t Danny Briere, and if you really want to actually do this properly, we should get the best people for job.” He leans back in his chair, lazily crossing his arms. “Or maybe your standards are just low.” Marc is almost impressed. He’s not sure he could come up with a better way to goad Sid into doing anything than what Claude has just said, and Briere’s reputation is excellent.

“You’re lucky my standards aren’t higher, otherwise you wouldn’t be here,” Sid says coolly, but his face is taking on that ‘hidden murderous intent’ expression that Marc associates with— well, running into Claude, usually. He says, “Go ahead and send the info we have about the security system to Briere, see if he can give us several options depending on what we find out later. I assume, since you’re on a nickname basis, that you have a way to contact him?”

Claude just ignores him, looks at Marc. “You had the system details, right?” Marc glances through the notes on the screen, and copies a few sections into a message to Claude. “Cool, thanks. I’ll talk to Danny.” He doesn’t spare another look at Sid before walking out of the frame.

Sid glares at the computer after he leaves. “Why are we working with him? Why can’t we work with— anyone else?”

Marc just gets up from the table and pats his shoulder. “It’s good for you, working on your teamwork and personability. It’ll look great on your resume.” He leaves the room quickly, chuckling as Sid yells after him, “I’m a criminal, I don’t need a resume!”

As he walks down the hall to the kitchen, Marc lets himself relax a little. Sure, Claude and Sid hate each other, but if it stays the same, it seems to be the kind of hate that means they work together reasonably professionally and complain to him later. That’s annoying, but it means they’re prioritizing actually getting the job done. He grabs two beers out of the fridge and heads back.

Sid is frowning at another one of the pages of notes Marc had initially taken when he sits down again, so Marc looks over his shoulder. There’s nothing glaringly obvious about it, so he figures it’s just a convenient object to project onto.

“Sid, is this gonna be a problem? You said you could work with him.”

“Yeah, I can, I just don’t want to.” Sid puts his head on his hands. “It’s not… we just don’t get along and it’s hard to have to deal with that on top of all the job stuff. I don’t want it to make a bigger deal than it needs to be, we don’t need additional complications. But I’ll try not to be so aggressive about it, I guess,” and Marc’s pleased to notice that Sid actually seems sincere. He thanks his lucky stars that Sid will put a job over almost everything else.

Handing Sid one of the beers, he says, “That’s all we need. You don’t have to become best friends with the guy, just work with him.”

Sid takes the beer, and narrows his eyes at him. “Are you rewarding my good behavior?”

“Maybe,” Marc says, trying to look angelic as Sid rolls his eyes. Sid’s smiling slightly when he turns back to the computer, so Marc counts it as a success.

\-----

They’re driving through the middle of fucking nowhere Pennsylvania, almost into Maryland, when Sid says, “I know what you’re doing with this, you know.”

Marc doesn’t look away from the road. “What do you mean?”

“You’re trying to cheer me up, or restore my faith in myself or whatever. It’s nice, I appreciate it, but… you don’t need to.” He’s quiet, but his voice sounds heartfelt, if that’s a way someone can sound. Marc still doesn’t look over at him.

“I kind of did. You just seemed so… unmotivated. It didn’t feel right. And it’s not like this is a big hardship for me, I want to pull this off too.” 

Sid snorts. “Yeah, spending a whole month doing one of the riskiest jobs of our lives is no big deal. Come on, Flower.”

Marc frowns over at him. “No, I’m serious, Sid, I want to do this, not just for you. But also, if I was doing it for you, that would be enough. You’re my best friend, and I want you to be happy. I know sometimes you get all,” he takes a hand off the steering wheels to wave it in Sid’s direction, “self-sacrificing, but when you care about someone, you do things for them because you want to. Look at Tanger, he basically gave up long term jobs because he doesn’t want to stay away from Cath for that long.”

It’s very quiet in the car for a few seconds as Marc tries very hard not to think about what he just said. Sid says, hesitantly, “Yeah, but they’re basically married.” Marc hates himself for saying it, and he doesn’t want to think about the uncertain quality of Sid’s voice. He can’t. So he forces himself to laugh.

“Well, we don’t know that many people that are actually functional adults, I didn’t have much to choose from.”

“True,” Sid agrees, but he doesn’t sound convinced. Marc doesn’t want to have a conversation about his feelings ever, but especially not when he’s stuck in a car for another two hours (or more, if DC traffic is as god-awful as it usually is).

“More importantly, now that we’ve talked to him a few times, are you going to kill Claude? I need to know ahead of time so I can plan a dramatic intervention.”

Sid grimaces and shakes his head. “No, I’m not going to kill him. He’s professional enough when he needs to be, and you’re right, he’s good enough to do this. I just… I don’t understand how he gets under my skin so easily.” He sounds frustrated, and Marc is kind of amused. Leave it to Sid to get annoyed at someone else for making him have inconvenient emotions and ignore that he seems equally good at pissing Claude off.

“I don’t know, but it seems the feeling is mutual. Maybe you two just need to fuck out the sexual tension.” Marc mostly just added the last part for fun, and Sid doesn’t disappoint. He chokes on air and spends a minute getting his breathing back to normal. 

His voice hasn’t quite made it there when he answers, “I don’t think that’s the issue, exactly.” Marc wants to ask what he means, why he sounds so sure, but Sid sounded very final, and if Marc’s trying to avoid emotional conversations, he can let Sid have the same courtesy.

\-----

“Well, the gang’s all here,” Simmonds says cheerfully when he comes into the room. 

They’d waited outside as Sid reserved the room, talking to Orpik presumably to make sure that no one’s going to be overly suspicious of them, and all trailed into the room separately. Marc wants to blame it on Sid being a paranoid bastard, but it’s probably a good idea. The whole reason they’re at this motel is that it’s a hotbed of criminal activity, but that doesn’t mean they have to be obvious about what they’re doing.

Sid’s rented two rooms that have a door between them, and one is a bit larger and also has what can charitably be called a dining area. Basically, it’s got a table they can all sit around. Amanda has made it clear that she’s staying with a friend, which works out well since they shouldn’t need to have too much direct contact with her once she knows the plan, and Simmonds had said he planned on going all over the city so they gave him a room key, but probably it will mostly be Marc, Sid, and Claude in the rooms. Marc’s trying not to think about how terrible of an idea that is, for many reasons.

Amanda sits down at the table, looking expectantly at Sid. “So, what exactly are we doing?”

Marc zones out a little when Sid starts explaining the plan. He’s heard it a lot of times now, having been Sid’s main sounding board. He takes the time to look around the table. Simmonds is nodding every so often and Marc appreciates that he looks like he’s taking this seriously. Amanda, on the other hand, is leaning on her crossed arms on the table and her eyebrows are climbing higher and higher up her face as Sid talks. He starts thinking about what questions she might have, the worst parts of their scheme, and how the fuck they’re going to be able to do this if she leaves. 

Sid’s in his element, as he always is when telling other people what to do, and Marc listens enough to catch him saying, “If everything goes the way we want it, that should be the hardest part of this job.”

It’s only through years of practice that Marc doesn’t laugh out loud at that. Nothing has ever gone the way they want it. Claude seems to share his skepticism, shaking his head. Sometimes it seems like he’s the reason half of their plans haven’t gone as intended, so Marc thinks maybe it’s actually a point in their favor that he’s here. He looks at Claude for a little longer. For all that he’s butted heads with Sid since that first video call, he’s actually been remarkably easy to work with. If he brought it up, Marc’s afraid they might both punch him, but Claude and Sid seem to have the same ideas more often than not. They’re very similar in some ways— fiercely competitive for sure, and if Claude’s fondness for Wayne is normal, deeply loyal.

Someone clears their throat. It’s Sid, looking pointedly at Marc and saying, “Flower, care to take over from here?” Shit. Sometimes Marc wonders if Sid missed his true calling as an obnoxious teacher. He’s about to try and ask where exactly he’s taking over from when Claude mouths ‘ _the day of_.’ 

“So, the morning of the actual heist, Amanda, you’ll obviously be in the exhibition, since you’re actually going to be showing a piece. It’s up to you what you do during it, but you’ll have a wire and be able to hear us. Hopefully we won’t need any distractions from you, but if we have to, be prepared to cover for us, and we can talk about how that might work once we see the exhibition space. Wayne, you’ll be driving the van from the outside security service, so we’ll need to make sure we get you into their system, at least at a very surface level. Sid will be on comms in an office across the street and hopefully he’ll also have eyes on us through the security system, but we’ll see how that goes. Claude, you and I will be going in. The idea is we sneak in a back way, make it to the staging area, take the Orions before they ever go out while Wayne gets the security away temporarily, and we walk them right out to his van like they’re just extra supplies. So, obviously, there’s still some things we need to work out, mainly once we see the exhibition hall, and this all depends on making sure that Dupont actually shows up with the Orions, but that’s the idea. If you have any questions, ask Sid. He’s the brain, I’m just the pretty face.”

Sid rolls his eyes at that, but Amanda immediately starts grilling him on what they know about Dupont, and Marc slips over to Claude as they stand up.

“Thanks,” he says quietly.

Claude waves his hand lightly. “Don’t worry about it. It’s gonna be enough of a pain in the ass actually doing this shit, you don’t need to be quizzed on it ahead of time too.” 

Marc shrugs, and knocks his shoulder against Claude’s. It was still nice. Marc hadn’t honestly been sure how he and Claude would get along with Sid there, but he’s been pleased that the answer seems to be ‘very well’. Claude smiles slightly, and then says, “Hey, Simmer, c’mere.”

Simmonds gets up from the table where Amanda is still interrogating Sid, walks over and says, “What’s up, G?”

“Just thought you should meet Flower properly. Simmer, this is Marc-Andre Fleury. Flower, this is Wayne Simmonds.”

Marc shakes the hand Wayne offers, but says to Claude, “I know who he is, you two took down a few of our jobs.” He looks at Wayne, who seems amused. “It is good to meet you, though. Hope you’re ready to deal with all this.”

Wayne smiles, and Marc decides on the spot that he likes him. He says, “Yeah, same to you, I remember you from that job you stole from us at the Carnegie.” Claude grimaces and Marc grins. They’d gotten a tip that someone was planning on pulling a heist at the Carnegie, and decided to get there first. That it had been Claude was just a bonus. Wayne looks over at Sid, who seems surprised by Amanda’s barrage of questions, and asks, “Is he always like this?”

“Pretty much,” says Marc, right as Claude groans quickly and agrees, “Yep.”

“Well,” Wayne says, glancing slyly at Claude, “that makes a nice change.”

Marc laughs while Claude yelps, offended. “I can plan things!” he protests, glaring back at Wayne.

It’s still going to take more luck than Marc would really like to pull this off, but it’s good to know that they’ve got a solid crew together.

\-----

Marc looks up when Sid comes back into the room, which means he gets to see Amanda run into Sid’s back as he stops and stares.

“Flower, why are you upside down?”

Before Marc can answer, Wayne says from the other side of the room, “He’s turned into a clock.” Sid stares some more. Amanda rolls her eyes and walks around him.

Claude, without looking up from his laptop, says, “We were timing him, and turns out he’s been switching positions every 20 minutes. You should have seen the last one, he was sort of— sideways but also balancing on his head?”

Marc just shrugs. Or, well, it would be shrugging if he wasn’t hanging off the front of the couch. “Sitting in one place for too long isn’t comfortable. I gotta stay flexible.”

Shaking his head, Sid walks through the doorway into the other room, and Marc turns to look at Amanda.

“So, how’d it go?” Marc asks.

She sits down in one of the chairs and starts taking off her jewelry. “Good, I think. I’m in the exhibition. They knew who I was when I showed up, which was nice, since I didn’t have to call anyone as a reference. I hate talking on the phone. We got a nice tour of the building,” she smiles brightly, “and they made a point to reassure me that my collection pieces would be absolutely safe with their security system. I let them know I was _very_ pleased with that information.” Marc can hear the satisfaction in her voice and he notices Claude nodding appreciatively.

Sid shows up in the doorway again, jacket and tie gone and hands in his pockets. “I think we got all the information we need on the security. We got a view of the monitoring room and I think the second program Briere gave us will work if we go in above the ground floor and since we’re planning on walking out. Amanda did a great job seeding Dupont’s name, so all we need to do now for him is get him the idea of exhibiting the Orions.”

“All I had to do was ask about him and Daniels practically jumped over herself to try and trick me into getting him myself. She’s obviously very eager for this to go well,” Amanda says, shaking her head dismissively.

Standing up, Wayne walks over to the table and grabs a paper. “So, which of the security companies is it?”

Amand and Sid say, “Goodman,” at the exact same time.

Marc sits up immediately. “Called it! Gimme,” and crooks his fingers at Claude, who’s already grabbing his wallet with a sour expression.

“Yeah, yeah, you got lucky,” he says, and flicks two bills on the bed next to him. Marc swings his legs down from the back of the couch and crosses to pick up the money. He blows Claude a kiss before going back to the couch, because no one has ever accused him of being a gracious winner.

Sid actually sighs at them. “Children,” he mutters.

“You love it,” Marc declares cheerfully. When Sid doesn’t bother to respond to that, Marc looks over at Claude. He’s watching Sid with a strange expression on his face, and Marc wonders if maybe he wasn’t more accurate than he thought when he joked about sexual tension.

\-----

“Basically, we should be fine as long as we don’t interact too much with anyone else from Goodman,” Wayne finishes. He and Marc have just gotten back from Goodman Security and they’re updating the others. “I’m gonna need to go find somewhere to print trappings for the van, so I think I’ll head out for that now." Sid nods, looking down at his phone.

“Flower, do you think you can take care of getting uniforms for you and Claude?” he asks absently. 

Marc looks over at Claude. “Claude already did that? Two days ago, when we were killing time while we played phone tag with Daniels.” Sid finally seems to focus in.

He looks over at Claude, who doesn’t seem surprised at this. “Shit, I’m sorry. That’s right, you went over to one of their other sites, I remember now.”

Now Claude looks surprised. “Uh, thanks? It’s fine.” Something about the apology seems to have thrown them both off, because they’re just— looking at each other.

While they’re distracted, Marc grabs for his phone, and hurriedly opens Spotify. Sid groans as soon as he hears it, but Claude takes a minute longer, looking up at first. He stares at Marc, eyebrows flat and mouth a line of disbelief.

“You cannot be serious right now.” Marc ignores him in favor of shimmying to the music now playing through the speakers.

Sid answers, in a way that Marc’s sure even Claude can tell is well-worn. “Unfortunately, he’s serious. This is his,” he makes actual air quotes, “heist music.”

Claude turns to Sid and says, “This is the least heist-y music I’ve ever heard, what the hell?”

Marc doesn’t stop dancing, but he does point over at Claude. “Oh yeah? Then what is good heist music?”

“I don’t know, but not Kesha!” Claude looks utterly betrayed, and Marc realizes that Claude actually thinks of him as the normal one. It’s a strange feeling, especially when you consider that they’re in a motel room, planning to steal priceless gems. He starts laughing as Sid turns back to Claude, his eyes wide with vindication.

“Finally, someone else will take my side!” Sid gloats. Marc ignores him. He can’t believe this is what’s finally gotten the two of them to agree on something, but he’ll take it.

Of course, Amanda walks in just then, and asks, “Are we having a dance party?”

Marc is about to say yes, because sure, why not, when Sid, sounding very put-upon, says, “No, Flower’s just getting in the mood.”

Does Sid ever think before he says things? Ever? Amanda clearly has the same thought process as Marc, because she raises her eyebrows very slowly and suggestively and asks, “Oh? What _kind_ of mood?”

Claude chokes on the drink of water he’s just taken, but Sid just shakes his head dismissively. “He’s getting in his heist mood.” Marc can, yet again, hear the air quotes. It’s uncalled for, if you ask him. Claude still sounds like he’s recovering from choking.

Amanda shakes her head lightly. “And here I thought you were finally going to get lucky.” Marc would really appreciate if this conversation weren’t happening right now, but unfortunately, this is his life. He’d appreciated Amanda’s similar sense of humor at first, but now he wishes they had brought Phil. He wouldn’t say this shit. 

“What? Oh, no, Flower and I tried that once, it didn’t go well, we’re better off as friends.” Sid has already turned back to the computer and his notes on Dupont’s contacts, which Marc will count as a very small blessing, because he doesn’t know exactly what his face is doing, but Claude gives him a look. It seems… sympathetic maybe? Which is more complicated than Marc wants to think about now.

“I’m gonna… go check on the car,” Marc mutters, and leaves before anyone else can try to give him significant looks.

Outside, he breathes deeply and looks up at the cloudy sky. Fuck. Hearing Sid say “it didn’t go well” was more than he was prepared to deal with.

He’d thought— well, he hadn’t thought Sid had forgotten about the time they slept together, but… Marc doesn’t know what he should have expected. Sid is notoriously private about his personal life, but at the same time, he doesn’t often have the same sort of shame about sex that most people do. Marc never expected he’d have to deal with that.

It had happened when they were much younger, and they’d just finished one of their biggest jobs. Marc had dared to hope that maybe Sid wanted the same things he did, but instead he got up the next morning and got told that it was a mistake and Sid didn’t like him that way. Marc hadn’t argued because what were you supposed to say to that? Instead, he’d pretended that was fine, let the relief wash over Sid’s face, and had a thoroughly embarrassing breakdown at Kris’s. After that, he’d tried very hard to get over Sid, and he’d managed to convince himself that maybe he’d finally done it before this whole job started and Marc was forced to admit that he hadn’t gotten over him at all.

“What the hell am I supposed to do now?” Marc asks out loud to the night, but nothing answers. He sighs again, and leans back against the car.

\-----

“So,” Sid announces, “We need to get the invitation to Dupont today.” He’s sitting at the chair in front of the window, and he’s staring vaguely at the wall.

Marc exchanges a look with Wayne, and puts down the bit of wires he’s been practicing on. “Does that mean we have an invitation to give him yet?”

Sid shakes his head. There’s another pause while Marc waits for any more information.

Wayne says, slowly, “So how are we supposed to deliver a letter we don’t have, exactly?” When Sid still doesn’t say anything, Wayne closes the laptop in front of him. “Hey, Crosby, this is your job. That means you actually have to do things, not just boss the rest of us around and slack off when it comes to getting shit done.” 

Marc’s first instinct is to defend Sid, but they really do need to figure out the invitation and Sid was supposed to be in charge of that.

Sid’s looking over at them now, and the frustration is plain on his face. “Look, I’ve been trying to come up with someone, but it’s fucking hard to find a contact I can believably forge a letter from that Dupont will trust, but that he also won’t feel comfortable calling and asking about this exhibition. So I’m sorry it’s taking me longer than I expected, but if you want to try, go for it.”

“Sure, but you’re the one who just said we need to deliver it today,” Wayne doesn’t seem as quick as Claude to blow up, but there’s a warning note in his voice. “At this point, maybe we need to settle for something less than ideal and figure out how to make it work, because we can’t wait any longer.”

“How about Backstrom?” Wayne and Sid’s heads both turn toward him and they look equally incredulous. Sid’s the first one to speak up.

“That’s— what— no, absolutely not.”

Marc stands up and starts pacing. “No, listen, it’s perfect. Nobody would be stupid enough to call and disturb him now, and he’s got the cred. Dupont absolutely knows who he is, and we know him well enough that you can probably pull off sounding like him for one tiny letter.”

This time, Wayne replies, completely incredulous. “Yeah, Dupont knows him, because he runs the supposedly legal side of one of the best illegal ways to buy art in DC. That’s not gonna make him _trust_ the guy!”

“See, that’s why it’s perfect!” Marc says, stopping. “Dupont isn’t squeaky clean, he has the fucking Orions. It’s not like they’re actually that valuable, their whole selling point is that some of the best thieves in history have stolen them, and we know he didn’t get them completely over the table. Backstrom’s paranoid _because_ half the shit he sells is illegal, which makes his word more trustworthy. Also, Dupont will figure it’s a way to get in good with them, and hopefully that will make him a little more eager.”

There’s silence and then Sid says, “Fuck, I can’t believe I’m about to do this. Alex’s going to kill me if he finds out.”

Wayne laughs. “I don’t think he’s the one you have to worry about.”

Sid shudders a little, but shakes his head as if to clear it. “Okay, sure. Why not. I guess I’ll write the letter, but if this goes wrong, Flower, it’s 100% your fault.”

\-----

Marc can hear Sid typing and pausing and impatiently tapping his pen on the table. He ignores it. No impatience from Sid will change the timetable they’ve set up for themselves. Besides, there are more pressing issues.

Like the fact that Claude is hissing as he pulls his shirt over his head, exposing a bloody slice in his back. Marc curses low, reaching out with one hand to lightly probe the edges of the wound. He shifts slightly on the bed, tilting his head to see if there’s anything embedded in the wound.

“What did you do, anyway?”

Claude winces as he tries to stretch his arm out for his phone on the chair next to them. “When we were getting back to the car through that alley, I landed funny, went down on the ground. Think there was glass or something there, because I fucking felt it stab me.”

Marc levels a glare at Claude, but realizes disappointedly that it doesn’t work when Claude can’t see him. “And you didn’t tell me? What the fuck!”

Glancing over his shoulder at the other side of the room where Sid is still tapping furiously, Claude says quietly, “I didn’t want to give him a reason to drop me from the job.”

Fuck whether or not Claude can see it. Marc starts glaring again, and curses again for good measure, louder this time. Sid looks up from the laptop.

“What? Did something go wrong?” He seems worried, but not with much intensity. Marc’s seen Sid more concerned that they’ve run out of his favorite peanut butter while on a stakeout.

“Are you serious, ‘did something go wrong’, yes, Sidney, something did, or did you think I just wanted to see Claude shirtless?”

He seems to take in the two of them on the bed for the first time, the bloodstained shirt Claude’s loosely holding, the medical kit open next to Marc. A little furrow digs its way between Sid’s eyebrows. It would be cute, Marc thinks, if it wasn’t so fucking infuriating.

“You should have told us,” Sid says, that little furrow not going away. Marc sees Claude’s back straighten in front of him and how Claude strains to repress the shudder that goes through him as the gash pulls open slightly.

“It’s not that bad. I told Flower.” Claude’s defensive and Marc wants to smash his head against the nearest heavy surface. Maybe the drawers, they look pretty solid. This was all a shitty fucking idea.

Now Sid looks angry, responding to some imagined slight in Claude’s voice, or maybe just his existence. “You need to communicate with us if we’re working together. I don’t know how you do things, but we actually keep track of each other.” Before Claude can start an actual fight, Marc speaks up.

“No, we’re not doing this right now. Sid, go sit in the car or take a walk or do literally anything else besides be in this room right now. Claude, shut the fuck up and don’t ever neglect to tell us about the motherfucking glass embedded in your back ever again.” Sid opens his mouth, and Marc shakes his head sharply. “Nope, out. Now. Take your phone, I’ll let you know when you can come back.” 

Sid doesn’t give him the satisfaction of pouting, just grabs his phone and sweeps out of the room, the door latching softly behind him.

“It sure sounds like you were sexiling him, does this mean I’m getting lucky tonight?” Claude’s looking at him in the mirror by the door, his eyebrows half raised and his tongue poking slightly out of his lips. It’s surprisingly obscene for how understated it is, and Marc’s impressed, but also a little thrown off. Sure, it could be an attempt at lightening the mood, but it was sort of out of left field. He really isn’t sure what to make of it.

“Only if you’re very very good,” Marc says lightly, and rips open a wipe from the first aid kit. Claude mutters something under his breath when Marc cleans the wound. It isn’t a particularly big cut, deep or wide, luckily, but it’s uneven and multipronged. Maybe what had cut Claude was a broken bottle? His skin is warm under Marc’s fingers.

When Marc has cleaned out the wound the best he can, he takes a large gauze pad out of the kit, spreading it over the entirety of the wound, and taping it around the edges. “There you go,” he says, patting Claude’s shoulder, “not good as new at all, but as good as you’re gonna get.” He tries to catch Claude’s eye in the mirror again, but Claude seems to be staring in the direction of his left knee. He shakes himself slightly, and turns to Marc instead of looking in the mirror.

“Thanks, man, I appreciate it. You didn’t have to.”

Marc snorts. “Actually, I really did. You can't break into any fancy-ass buildings with me if you’re bleeding out.” He usually would leave it there, but… Claude had sounded genuinely touched and he was working with them on this job and they’d become friends at some point. He deserves a little more. “And I’d be sad if you died. Who else would make fun of terrible movies with me in French?”

They're really close together, Marc thinks, as he sees how the corners of Claude’s eyes twitch when a small smile curves his lips. “True, I’m irreplaceable.” Then he sighs, and stands up. “I guess you’d better let Croz know he can come back and I need to— I don't know, do some breathing exercises or some shit.”

Marc feels a little off-balance, like instead of Claude standing up, he and the room had just moved around Marc. Everything feels different, but looks exactly the same. He picks up his phone and texts Sid.

\-----

“Holy shit!” Sid yells. He’s staring at his phone like it’s going to eat him. Marc looks around at the rest of the room, but everyone else seems as confused as he is.

“Are you going to share with the class, Croz?” Claude says lazily.

Sid doesn’t even bother chirping back. “Backstrom texted me.”

“What the fuck?” says Wayne, while Amanda leaps up to look at Sid’s phone, and Claude’s eyes get huge. Marc’s never believed any of the ghost stories about Backstrom knowing everything that happens in DC, but he does right now.

Still holding his phone gingerly, Sid reads, “ ‘You owe me one. -Backstrom’.” He finally looks up at everyone else. Sid looks a little lost.

Amanda pats him on the shoulder, and says, “Dupont must have contacted him, right? How else would he know? I think this is him giving us his permission.”

Claude shudders. “That’s terrifying. I can’t wait to leave DC”

Sid nods vigorously. “I’ve never agreed with you more.” Claude looks honest to god startled.

“I didn’t know you agreed with me _ever_ ,” Claude says, and Marc’s inclined to agree. Except… lately, Sid’s seemed a lot more tolerant of Claude, almost occasionally fond. He doesn’t even think Sid’s noticed it. 

Sid opens his mouth, and closes it again. There’s an awkward pause and then Sid says, “It has to happen eventually, right?”

Drily, Wayne says, “That’s the spirit, Crosby.” Amanda laughs, but Marc is looking at Claude and _he’s_ still looking at Sid with an unidentifiable expression.

\-----

“I still can’t believe you two are actually voluntarily doing this together. Sure you don’t need me to come and mediate?” Marc says again, making no move to get off the bed.

Sid flips him off while Claude rolls his eyes.

“We’ll be _fine_ ,” says Claude. “We’re going to split up to cover more ground so we won’t even have to talk that much. What could possibly go wrong?” Sid immediately knocks on the table. “Are you seriously that superstitious?”

“No, but it can’t hurt.” Sid’s double checking his bag, but he stops to look over at Claude. “You’re not wearing that hat.”

The hat in question is a neon green snapback Claude has just put on. Marc isn’t usually one to question other people’s styles, but it’s almost painfully bright. Claude looks mutinous. “I am, actually. You don’t get to tell me what I can and can’t wear.”

Sid’s shoulders slump, but Marc catches the twinkle in his eye. “Fine, whatever, I don’t want to argue now. When it falls off and someone remembers the guy in the bright neon hat and we all get caught, I won’t even say I told you so.”

“God, okay, I’ll leave it here if you’re going to be pissy about it,” Claude says, though there’s no heat behind it, and he tosses the hat at Marc’s head. It lands at an angle, so Marc readjusts it to actually put it on. He’s treated to Claude smiling in what looks like surprised delight. It’s a really good look on him.

Wait, what? Marc tries not to think of his inner monologue as that, because it sounds pretentious even in his head, but it’s hard not to when he surprises himself so much with his thoughts. Sure, he knows Claude is relatively attractive, but he hadn’t _noticed_ it so actively before.

Marc just shakes his head. “Good luck, I hope you both come back alive, because I’m certainly not bailing either of you out.” Claude somehow manages to salute sarcastically, and Sid just nods. They head out the door and Marc sighs. Whose awful idea was this job anyway?

\-----

“Come on, come on, come on,” Marc is supposed to be putting together a set of notes for Amanda, but instead he’s chanting at the TV because the Pirates are barely holding on to a lead. He hadn’t meant to watch this game, he’d just turned it on as background noise, but he’d gotten invested. Amanda’s a professional, she can do her own research. Before the next player goes up to bat, the door to the room slams open, and Claude stalks in. Sid’s hovering at the door behind him, and Marc thinks that Claude’s just going to ignore him before he whirls around, jabbing a finger at Sid’s chest.

“Get the fuck out of this room. You’re in the other one tonight,” Claude’s words are remarkably restrained given that he seems to be about five seconds away from spitting in Sid’s face.

Sid seems to be trying to stay calm. “Okay, I just need to let Flower know what happened—”

“No. Leave. Now.” Claude walks over to the connecting door, and jerks it open. Sid takes a deep breath, grabs his bag, and walks through the doorway. Claude slams it behind him and sags back against the wall.

“So,” Marc drags the word out, not sure what to say. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Claude laughs, but it sounds hollow. He disappears into the bathroom. Marc looks around the room to find something he can do, and sees that the Pirates have given up the lead. He turns off the TV, and pulls his notes over to his laptop. There’s no reason to make Amanda do _all_ her own research, he supposes.

He’s just finished typing up a short brief on what all will be shown at this exhibition other than the Orions when Claude comes back out of the bathroom. Marc studiously doesn’t look over as he changes in the corner of the room, and he’s ready to keep working in silence. Claude surprises him, though. He pads over to the bed closest to the table where Marc is working and lays down. Marc doesn’t know what to do, so he just sort of ends up watching as Claude stares at the ceiling.

“You know we slept together, right?” Claude’s voice is quiet. Marc thinks he’s trying to be emotionless, just tell the facts, but it doesn’t come across that way. It comes across as, frankly, a little heartbroken. Claude keeps talking. “In Europe, two years ago. We worked together on a big group job in Prague and ran into each other afterwards. I don’t know, maybe the change in scenery was enough to throw us off? We talked for a while, and turns out when we don’t hate each other, we actually get along really well.” 

Marc wants to smile. He’d been saying that for years before Sid traipsed off to Europe for a summer, and he wishes he’d been finding out he was right some other way. He doesn’t say anything, lets Claude continue, the words pouring out now, still quiet. “It was good, it was really fucking good. We had really great sex, we’d jokingly talked about working together on another job, I really thought everything would be different afterwards, that maybe we’d stop stealing each other’s jobs, and...” There’s a long pause and Claude finally looks over at him. “And then he never showed up to meet me for lunch one day, and that was it. No message, no phone call, nothing. Just disappeared. I found out he left Europe that day. Guess I wasn’t good enough.”

“What does that have to do with today?” Marc has to ask, because it means he can put off actually contributing to this conversation, and it feels like Claude needs to talk.

“We were behind the exhibition hall, just doing some extra recon, and a security guard spotted us. Instead of doing anything easy like running, Sid decided the best way to throw the guard off our tracks was to make it seem like we were busy.” Claude drags a hand over his face. “He’s still a really good kisser.”

Marc can imagine it, vividly. Sid and Claude in some back alley, Sid pressing Claude up against a wall, his bulk holding them in place as Claude had no choice but to go with it, tangling his hands in Sid’s hair. He feels— Marc doesn’t know what he feels, actually, other than a lot.

“Fuck,” he says, instead of anything useful. Claude smiles, a rough quirk of his lips that seems more like fatalistic acceptance than anything actually approaching happy.

“So. That’s what happened. I’ll be fine by tomorrow, I can keep working with Sid, I just needed not to have to see his face tonight.”

Marc nods immediately. “Of course, Claude, that’s fine. Don’t worry about it.” Something else occurs to him. “He doesn’t realize what’s wrong, does he?”

Shaking his head briefly, Claude replies, “Nope. Not a single clue, or if he did, he didn’t fucking show it.” Marc wants to comfort him: to give him a hug or kiss his forehead or pat his shoulder and whisper, “I get it, I know, I understand.” But he can’t, because he and Claude don’t do that and if there’s one lesson Marc has had to learn over the years, it’s that there’s no point in rocking the boat on a job.

But maybe... There’s also something to be said for a sympathetic audience, and Marc knows he’ll probably never get a better opportunity than this. So he steels himself, and says, “Yeah, he’s like that. We, ah— we slept together once. He decided the next morning that we would be better off as friends, and I went along with it because what else could I do? I don’t think he’s ever realized that I— he just went right back to acting like we were best friends, and he’s never acknowledged it really.”

“Until the other day,” Claude says roughly.

“Yeah.”

“Fuck.” Claude rolls onto his back and stares at the ceiling again. There’s silence for a few moments until Claude suddenly bolts up and looks at Marc very intently. “Wait, do you still feel that way about Sid?”

And there it is again, the thing Marc’s been trying to avoid for years. “I thought I didn’t. I thought I was over it, and everything’s been fine between us for so long, but…”

“Yeah,” Claude is the one to say it this time. “Well, aren’t we all nicely well-adjusted. God. Why him?” But Marc can hear the defeat in Claude’s voice.

Marc says quietly, “Because he’s a pain in the ass, and we love it?”

Claude closes his eyes. “Yeah. Something like that.” He looks very sad and very small and Marc doesn’t want to see this, not from Claude who’s usually so vibrant. He doesn’t know what to do about it though, and he sits there for a few seconds. Before he can second guess himself, he gently brushes Claude’s hair off his forehead, and stands up to finish his work from earlier.

\-----

Everyone is in the motel room, and there’s a restless energy in all of them. Marc is nearly bouncing, and Amanda keeps checking something on her phone.

“Okay, everyone know what they’re doing?” Amazingly, it’s Claude who asks. No one says anything, and he nods. “Cool, because I don’t want to hear it again.”

To complete the role reversal, Sid says, “We’re all good. Nothing to do except wait until tomorrow.” He looks calm, but Marc can see the tension in how he’s holding himself.

“In that case,” says Marc, “we should have a drink.” He can’t think of anything else to do, and if they try to sit around quietly or go to bed, he’ll jump out of his skin.

Amanda approves. “Sounds good to me. What are we drinking?”

Claude’s already gotten up and walked over to the mini fridge. “Well, there’s a six pack of fancy-ass hipster beer, and an open bottle of vodka.” He takes both out of the fridge and sits them on the table. “Take your pick and drink up.”

They all venture over to the impromptu bar, with Amanda, Sid, and Wayne grabbing beers and Marc and Claude pouring themselves an approximation of a shot in the glasses from the coffee tray.

Marc looks around. “Cheers.” He holds up his glass. Their drinks all clink together and Marc downs his shot. Nothing else to do, he supposes. Tomorrow, it will be over one way or the other.

\-----

It had taken Marc a long time to get to sleep the night before, but once he did, he slept soundly into the morning. They don’t have really any preparations left, so other than bringing back lunch for them all from across the street, Marc waits. The exhibition is opening that evening. They’ll be heading out in the late afternoon, and if it goes the way they hope, they’ll all be back here before it gets dark.

The restlessness from the night before hasn’t gone away. Marc always hates this part of the job— just fucking waiting for things.

“Chill out, you’re making me nervous,” Claude says, interrupting his thoughts.

Marc takes a deep breath and tries to relax. “You aren’t nervous? I think maybe you should be.”

Shrugging, Claude says, “I mean, yeah, I’m going to be nervous once we actually get there, but now? No.”

It’s just the two of them. Wayne’s taking a nap in the other room, and Sid had gone with Amanda to get ready for the exhibition. Regardless of if they got the Orions, she would probably be at the exhibition all evening, and she’d wanted to get ready plenty early. Marc almost wishes everyone else was here, at least so there’d be more distractions. Instead, he’s left fidgety and discomforted.

“I can’t handle this,” Claude declares, and marches over to Marc. He grabs the piece of paper Marc hadn’t noticed he’d been fiddling with out of his hands.

Claude asks, “Animal, vegetable, or mineral?”

“Seriously? Twenty questions? That’s your solution?” says Marc, incredulously.

Claude crosses his arms. “Listen, I never said I had good ideas. If you have something else in mind…” he trails off pointedly.

Sighing, Marc thinks for a minute. “Vegetable, if we’re really doing this.” It probably won’t calm him down, but at least he’ll have something else to think about until they leave the room.

\-----

“Holy shit,” Claude breathes when they tumble through the door of their motel room. “We actually did it.”

Marc throws his arms around Sid and Claude, and kisses each of them loudly on the cheek. “We fucking did it!” he crows. Sid’s beaming and Claude’s laughing at him. 

Wayne had gone to strip the branding off the van and leave it for someone else to find on the other side of the city, and Amanda is going to be at the exhibition until it ends late that evening, since she has actual business to do. Marc is looking forward to hearing from her how Dupont reacted. For now, Claude is reverently putting the moving crate on the table and opening it to reveal a small canvas bag. He gestures to Sid, still smiling, who takes the bag out and dumps the six small garnets into his hand.

“Finally,” Sid murmurs. The Orions aren’t big, or even particularly stunning, but there’s something about them that inspires respect. Marc thinks of all the other thieves that have held them. It’s pretty fucking amazing to be in that company. The story of why they became the ultimate achievement is lost to time, or at least popular memory, but it doesn’t matter. They did it.

This time, Claude is the one who walks over to the fridge and pulls out the vodka. He pours three glasses, and offers them to the other two. “We have to celebrate somehow, right?” He’s smirking and Marc is embarrassed to note how much he’s into the look. He grabs a glass and swallows a big gulp of the vodka for something to do, ignoring the burn. Sid, on the other hand, seems to let his hand linger on Claude’s as he take the other glass. Marc needs to say something, because he doesn’t know what this is heading towards.

“I guess you two working together was a pretty good idea after all,” he says smugly. Because he is pleased with how it worked out, and he’s more than willing to pretend like he knew all along it would go so well, especially if it means getting to tell Sid ‘I told you so’.

Sid shakes his head, but he’s obviously in a very good mood, because he indulgently says, “Yeah, alright, Flower, your ideas are all great and I should listen to you always.”

Marc preens. “Wanna say that again?” he says, trying to slip his phone out of his pocket surreptitiously and utterly failing. Sid shoves him lightly and laughs when Marc drops his phone.

Meanwhile, Claude is leaning back against the dresser next to the mini-fridge and slowly sipping at the vodka. He looks content just to listen to them banter, but his eyes are dark and interested. Marc finds himself wondering about what Claude would be like in bed, and he lets himself think about it this time, because why the hell not? They stole the Orion Garnets, he can at least fantasize about his friends. Sid reaches past Claude to grab the bottle, and for a moment, they’re almost pressed up against each other. It passes. Sid takes the vodka over to the table and flops down in a chair.

Marc is fond of Sid most of the time, but especially when he’s relaxed and happy after a big job. He drinks the rest of his glass, and clunks it onto the table before falling back on the bed. Marc closes his eyes for a few seconds, and when he opens them again, Claude is pouring them all more drinks.

“Are you trying to get us _drunk_ , Claude?” Marc asks, gleeful and fake-scandalized.

Claude puts a hand over his heart. “How could you accuse me of such a thing?” he deadpans.

Snorting, Sid says, “Yeah, you’re such an angel.” Claude winks at him, and Marc decides if the evening’s going to keep being this weird, he wants to be good and drunk for once. He takes the refilled glass and drinks more.

\-----

“You know,” Sid says later, his words slower than usual. Marc has been drifting in and out of sleep, but it catches his attention, and he opens his eyes a little. Sid’s still sitting at the table, but Claude’s moved to the edge of the bed Marc’s on.

He can feel the bed shift a little when Claude laughs and says, “I will know, if you ever finish that sentence.”

Sid starts again. “You know, we did pretty good together.” Marc laughs a little, and they both turn to look at him.

“I thought you were asleep, lightweight,” Claude teases, and Marc raises his middle finger at him in place of trying to think of words. This time, Sid’s the one who laughs.

“ ‘M not asleep, it’s just comfortable here,” Marc mumbles, and props himself up on his elbow. “Really though, that’s all you got, Sid? “We did pretty good together”? I was expecting something more,” he waves a hand around, “big.”

Marc can’t tell if it’s just from drinking or because Sid’s blushing, but his cheeks are red. He says, “It was important! To say it.”

Claude shakes his head. “You’re a pretty bad conversationalist when you’re drunk, Sid.” Sid pouts. It’s really cute. Looking at Claude’s expression, Marc thinks he agrees.

“We did do good together, though,” Claude adds. “Thank you for bringing me in on this job. I mean, partly cause I would have hated you two so much if you’d stolen the Orions before I did, but mostly because I actually enjoyed myself.” He looks a little uncomfortable saying it.

Marc is honestly touched. He decides the best response is to sit up and hug Claude, but he doesn’t bother trying to move first, which means he ends up sort of lying across Claude’s back with his arms draped around his neck. “Aww, Claude, that was sweet.”

Claude grumbles. “I know, it was terrible, I hope I never do that again.” Marc laughs against his back. It’s a lot more comfortable than he expected, but he leans back a little so he can actually look at Claude’s face.

“You, my friend, are not drunk enough.”

“Why? Because otherwise I'd be falling asleep like you?” Claude grins as Marc tries to glare at him. Sid laughs suddenly.

“It’s nice having it directed at someone else for once,” he says when they turn to look at him. 

Marc pokes Claude’s side, and stage-whispers, “What was that? I’ve suddenly gone deaf, couldn’t hear it at all.”

Claude says, out of the corner of his mouth so he’s still mostly facing Sid, “I don’t know either, must have been something about how wonderful we are.”

“Mmm, yeah, you know Sid, he loves giving unnecessary compliments.” Marc’s amazed at himself for keeping a straight face, especially since Claude has cracked up and he can feel him laughing where he’s still partially leaning against him.

Sid says, “Hey!” but he’s laughing, too. “The two of you have the exact same face when you’re chirping, it’s terrifying.”

“We scare you?” Claude sounds like his night has just been made. “That’s the best news I’ve heard all day.”

Incredulously, Sid says, “We actually stole the Orion fucking Garnets, and that’s the best thing you heard all day?” He shakes his head and pours himself more vodka. Marc’s not looking forward to hungover Sid in the morning, but it’s definitely worth it for once. 

Claude just shrugs. “Well, I had faith in you guys that we’d get the garnets. I never thought I’d hear that.” Marc’s heart twists a little at Claude saying he had faith in them, and judging by the stunned look on Sid’s face, he felt the same.

Marc doesn’t know where to go from there, and despite sort of sleeping earlier, his head is spinning just a little. He says, “Why are we all still sitting upright when we could be horizontal?” Sid sputters, having just taken a drink. “Really? You pick _now_ to have a sense of humor?” Marc groans, and tries to pull Claude back on the bed with him.

Claude resists, though, and instead he looks directly at Sid. “Come on, Sid. Come to bed,” he says, quietly. Marc’s breath stops. Fuck. He’s gonna be hearing that for a long time.

Sid stands up slowly, not breaking eye contact with Claude, and walks over to the bed. Claude lets Marc pull him down, and tugs on Sid’s arm. Sid just— goes with it, lying down next to them.

It’s very quiet. Marc’s first instinct, as always, is to make a joke, lighten the mood. But he finds he doesn’t want to. Everything is filled with tension, but Marc doesn’t want to break it because what if this is his only chance for— something. Anything. He can’t be the one to ruin it for them all. So he lies back, and lets himself hope, just for a little while.

\-----

It’s really hot when Marc wakes up the next morning. He blearily opens one eye— and then immediately closes it again. When he opens both eyes, everything is still a bit blurry, but that’s definitely Claude and Sid piled in the bed with him. He lies still, trying to remember exactly what happened the night before. He’s pretty sure nothing happened beyond them drinking and flirting a bit, but he isn’t completely sure, and it scares him.

Marc doesn’t know what else to do besides lie there, so he’s treated to a front row view of Sid stirring awake, which has the effect of making Claude grumpily lift his head. Claude’s curls are sticking up atrociously, and it’s fucking adorable. But Marc doesn’t get a chance to appreciate it for long, because Sid’s eyes widen and he scrambles up.

“What the fuck?” Sid says, sounding panicked. Marc wants to close his eyes and pretend this isn’t happening. “What happened?” Sid’s louder this time, and Claude actually sits up.

“What do you mean, what happened? You were there, we stole the Orion Garnets and then got drunk and fell asleep.” Claude’s clearly not fully awake but he’s getting there. Marc can only watch as Sid’s face freezes.

He can actually see when Sid decides that damage control is the only way to go. “Right, so nothing happened with us. Which is good.”

“ ‘Which is good’?” Claude spits. “Are we doing this again?”

Sid’s face hardens. “Doing what again, Giroux?”

“Christ, we’re back to last names already? We were practically holding hands last night, _Sid_.” He emphasizes the name, and Marc isn’t ready for this. He doesn’t know what to do.

“Yeah, and it was a mistake. Sleeping with your coworkers is dangerous and leads to mistakes.”

A flash of anger rushes through Marc. “And leads to mistakes? Sid, don’t fucking pretend that you have some sort of professional standard. This has nothing to do with any job and everything to do with your fucking emotional hang-ups.” Sid looks devastated for a second, and Marc knows he’ll regret this later, but he’s so fucking fed up. “You always find some excuse not to deal with your _feelings_ , and everyone else has to deal with it. We’re not just ignoring it this time, and pretending we’re just friends.”

Marc thinks Sid is going to yell at him, but instead he just. Leaves. He’s left staring at the door after it’s slammed closed and Marc still doesn’t know what to do with himself. He feels the bed move as Claude gets up, but it doesn’t bring him any clarity.

“Hey—” Claude begins, but he’s interrupted by his phone vibrating across the table. He ignores it, and Marc assumes it’s just an alert or maybe an alarm, but then it starts ringing tinnily. Claude stalks across the room to answer it.

“What, Simmer, I’m busy.” Marc’s never heard Claude talk to Wayne so angrily, but it drops a minute later as Claude’s face freezes up.

“What? Shit! Fuck, how long do you think we have?” Oh no.

“Okay, we’ll figure something out, maybe-” Wayne obviously cuts him off, and Claude nods, then says, “yeah, gotcha”. He hangs up and looks at Marc, white-faced.

“Someone traced us back here. They’ll be here any minute. We’ve gotta leave, now. Wayne’s gonna meet us at that empty building around the block.”

Marc nods, his mind racing. “We can get out through the back window. We have to get as much of our shit as possible.” Claude shakes his head.

“Okay, but we’ve got maybe three minutes, if we’re lucky.” Claude’s already pulling on shoes and throwing the most obviously suspicious things into a bag. Marc joins him, quickly darting around the room, knocking over bags of clothes and messing up the bed even more. The more lived in the room looks, the less whoever found them will look around hopefully. He wishes they hadn’t finished the vodka, because spilling it would also be a good cover, but they’ll have to settle for just leaving the bottle. Luckily, Amanda and Wayne had most of their things with them, and Sid’s paranoia meant he tried to keep all the important stuff in one place where they could keep an eye on it all at once.

There’s a sound of cars pulling into the parking lot outside, and Marc blanches.

“We need to go,” he hisses. Claude heads back toward the window, grabbing the Orions in their bag and shoving them in his pocket. Marc’s carrying a backpack, which is going to make it even harder to climb out the window, but at least if the computer falls out and breaks, no one will be able to get into it. Hopefully.

He pries the window up and slips out, grateful that they’re in a motel with only one floor. Claude passes him a duffle bag, and then follows him out. They manage to pull the window mostly closed from outside, and Marc realizes, very distantly, that he’s wearing pajamas. There’s a sparse tree line behind the motel, and they both take off. Once they reach it, they slow down, and try to hide more as they make their way between a few buildings to the abandoned structure Claude had mentioned.

Wayne is waiting for them around the other side, nervously looking from side to side. “C’mon, I’ve got another car here, I don’t think they should know this one.” Marc follows them to a nondescript silver sedan, and they throw the bags into the trunk. he’s starting to slide into the backseat when Claude suddenly grabs his arm.

“Sid,” he says urgently.

“He’s still back there,” Marc realizes, a sick feeling in his stomach.

“What?” Wayne asks, frantic. “I thought he already got out!”

Claude shakes his head. “We had a fight, he left. I don’t know where he is.”

“We have to go back,” Marc says blankly. Claude curses violently and pulls the bag with the Orions out of his pocket, thrusting it at Wayne.

“Take these, go make sure they haven’t found Amanda too. We’ll let you know when we’re safe somewhere.” Wayne looks conflicted, but he nods and throws himself into the car. Marc has already started moving when Wayne drives off.

They don’t speak as they head back toward the motel. Marc drifts into the lead, taking them around several of the buildings they came through earlier. He doesn’t know exactly where Sid ended up, but there’s only so many options at a motel and the laundromat and vending machines were near the front office. He can hear a commotion when they get back to the tree line. Marc almost wishes for Claude’s obnoxious hat as they walk along the open stretch between the trees and the corner of the motel. It’s built in a shallow U-shape, so they make their way along the back of one of the arms towards the road and the front office.

Claude opens the first service door they come to, which turns out to lead into a closet. Opening the closet door, he whispers, “Vending machines. Looks empty.” They back out into the outside, and Marc ducks back, realizing the next door has an actual door.

“Laundromat,” he whispers back to Claude, and peers around the edge of the window. He’s about to move on when something catches his eye. “Fuck!” he hisses, because the door is locked. Marc is about to despair when the door opens from the other side, and Sid’s voice comes through.

“What the _fuck_ is going on?” Marc slips in and sees Sid crouched behind the row of washers. Marc throws himself into the other corner, nearly under the table by the dryers, and Sid pulls Claude with him.

“Someone traced us here. Wayne warned us, and we got most of the stuff out of the room, but we realized you were still here and didn’t know what was happening.” Claude explains quietly, his eyes darting around the room. A light swings past the door on the other side of the room, illuminating a swath of the tile floor and making them all freeze. 

When it’s passed, Sid says, “You came back for me.” He sounds surprised, wondering, and Marc wants to punch him. Claude’s the one who answers, though, sounding equally furious.

“Of course we did! Because we care about you, motherfucker!” There’s only a brief second for that to sink in and then Sid kisses Claude, hard.

Marc can only watch from his hiding place across the room. He can see them, has a perfect view, and his heart sinks. Of course. What else had he expected?

Just then, he catches a glimpse of someone through the front door of the room and his throat closes up. “Guys, we need to go, _now_ , there’s someone out there with a gun.” Claude pulls back from Sid, a stunned look on his face, but he makes eye contact with Marc and nods. Sid only looks determined. Marc doesn’t let himself think about anything. He pushes the door open inch by inch, and holds it as they slip out, crouching low. He’s the last one outside, and he waits a torturous few seconds to close the door quietly. They make their way to the back of the building again, and again make a mad dash for the treeline. Marc thinks he might hear something behind them, and they all duck behind the trees. Nothing else seems to be coming in their direction, so they round the first building.

For the second time that night, Marc walks around to the front of the abandoned building, which seems to be a warehouse, now that he’s actually sparing it a glance. Sid jiggles the handle next to them and the door creaks open after a few seconds. Looking around, they all follow him inside. It’s one large, dark room, and Marc stays still for a few moments to let his eyes adjust.

“I think we’re safe for now,” Claude says quietly, his voice echoing slightly. “Wayne knows to come back here for us, but it might be a while.”

Sid nods and then says, very hesitant, “Claude…”

Claude looks at him, and sees something that makes him reach out very gently and cup Sid’s face. “Did you really think we wouldn’t come back for you?” Sid looks over at Marc and he doesn’t know what Sid sees, but he turns back to Claude and says, “I wasn’t thinking anything.”

Sighing, Claude says, “You’re a pain in the ass, but it wouldn’t be the same without you.” Sid’s smile lights up his face. Marc hates himself for watching as they come together again, and Claude is the one to initiate the kiss this time. He stares for— he doesn’t know how long, and Marc wants to scream. He doesn’t know who to be jealous of, and he abruptly turns away.

Picking his way across the room in case there’s any debris, Marc heads for the vague outline of a door on the opposite side of the building. Pushing it open, he sees that there’s a small entryway between where he came from and another door leading outside. Perfect.

He lets the other door swing closed behind him and leans back against the wall, keeping an eye on the small window that’s vaguely in the direction of the motel from here. Someone needs to keep an eye out probably. Marc is hoping that being out of eyesight of the other two can let him forget what’s happening, but he keeps seeing them together in his mind. He presses his hands against his eyes, hoping maybe _something_ will help. The worst part is that he’s not even mad at them, because watching them kiss was honestly the hottest thing he’s seen in ages. No, he hates himself for not only falling for two of his friends, but for doing it while he practically set them up with each other.

Marc doesn’t know how much time passes before the inside door squeaks open. He’s been keeping watch through the window, but it’s a good thing nothing has happened. He’s not sure he would have been able to react. The door opens wider and Marc turns his head to see Claude, looking determined and maybe a little nervous. Marc opens his mouth to say something, although he doesn’t know what, and instead, Claude kisses him. His mouth is soft and Marc relaxes into it for a few precious seconds, before stiffening. He pulls back and stares. “What— I don’t— But— You and Sid.”

Still looking determined, Claude says rapidly, “First off, it’s not like we’re getting married or anything,” Marc wants to laugh, because yeah, but he can’t. Claude keeps going. “And we don’t like the idea of anything, you know, exclusive or whatever. Secondly, you’re his best friend, and—” Claude breaks off, seeming frustrated with his words. “Let him explain it.”

Marc can’t let himself get his hopes up, but he can feel it happening anyway. “But what about you?” he presses, because Sid isn’t the other one here.

Claude actually laughs a little. “You didn’t know? I’ve been flirting with you since this job started. Half the reason I started texting you was because I was hoping for a booty call, but then you had to go and become my friend and funny and a fucking great thief and you took my side over Sid and you speak French and—” Marc gives in and kisses him. Apparently it’s that kind of day. He pulls back too quickly again, still not letting himself believe it won’t be yanked out from under him.

“I’m still not sure I believe you, but I wanted that.” Claude frowns, but he takes Marc’s hand, and pulls him gently back toward Sid. Marc lets himself be led. When they make it back across the dark warehouse, Sid’s waiting. He doesn’t even let them get all the way over before he starts talking at Marc.

“I know you don’t have to believe me, but Flower, I didn’t know how to be friends with you and sleep together. I thought it couldn’t work, and I convinced myself that the only way to keep you around was to be friends only and that was more important to me. But I was wrong, and I’ve known that for so long, I just didn’t let myself think about it.”

Claude shakes his head. “Has no one ever told you to actually talk to people?”

Marc has to agree. “That really would have saved us a lot of trouble,” he says, and doesn’t look at Sid, who winces.

“Yeah. I know I fucked this all up, with both of you, but working on this job— it made me realize how much I cared about both of you, but I didn’t realize how much you felt the same way.”

“Until we came back into a potential shooting scene to find you, like a couple of dumbasses?” Marc suggests lightly. He knows they’ll need to talk more about this, because he has years worth of issues with Sid’s approach to relationships, but right now he doesn’t care. Marc doesn’t let either of the other two respond to that. “Listen, are you two serious right now? You really want a relationship with all three of us?”

Claude nods, and Sid says, firmly, “Yes.”

Marc feels like a weight lifts off his shoulders. “Alright. We can talk about it later— and I’m gonna make us talk if you two won’t do it— but yes, god, yes.” Claude smiles widely and Marc is momentarily annoyed at the dark of the warehouse because it means he can’t see it properly.

Claude’s phone rings. He fumbles it out of his pocket, answers quickly. “What’s up?” Marc had almost forgotten they were hiding out, but as he listens to Claude making plans with Wayne to come pick them up, he starts quietly telling Sid what they’d managed to get out of the room and what they’ll need to make sure to go back for. Sid focuses in and Marc can see the gears turning in his head.

They’ll make it out of this.

\-----

A week later finds them back in Pittsburgh, this time with Claude. They’d all driven up to Harrisburg and split up, hoping that would make it extra difficult for anyone still trailing them. Amanda was headed back to meet up with her girlfriend in Boston, and Wayne was heading back to Philadelphia. Claude hadn’t said anything, just hugged Wayne goodbye and got back in Marc’s car. Sid and Marc had shared a look, and headed back home.

When they drive into Pittsburgh, Sid suggests, “Let’s go to my house.” Marc thinks he should be shocked, as Sid almost never lets anyone into his actual house, but he just smiles, and takes the next exit.

Claude says excitedly from the back seat, “Ooh, what’s his house like? Terribly boring and undecorated?”

Marc makes a face and looks up at Claude in the mirror. “No, it’s awful, he let someone else build it for him, and it’s _modern_.” Sid rolls his eyes.

“It’s not that bad!”

“Whatever you say, Sid.”

Claude smiles a little sleepily— he’d just taken his turn driving— and leans back. “I’m sure it’ll be terrible. Can’t wait.”


End file.
